It was the first time I’d seen a party with masks. I couldn’t get over it. Plus, all the masks were the same, like they’d all been given one, the men and the women alike. They covered their faces from forehead to chin, with holes for eyes and nose and mouth, as if instead of faces they only had those holes.
Later on, abroad, I played at many a masked ball, but there everyone’s mask was different. Even in a mask each person was trying to stand out. Not to mention that every mask glittered with various colors, silver and gold. And there were all kinds of shapes, stars, moons, hearts. Some were so narrow they only covered the eyes, others revealed the eyes and nose and mouth while the whole of the rest of the face was hidden. Also, everyone’s costume was different. Here everyone was dressed the same, or in any case the differences were small. And all the masks were black.
I wondered how they could dance in those masks. You couldn’t smile at the other person, or show surprise, or make a face, through the holes. Maybe they could talk, but when a voice came through a hole like that you couldn’t even tell whose voice it might be. And when you’re dancing, your faces are next to each other.
Maybe that was why they went out more and more often to the room where the food and drink was. And they were increasingly wobbly when they came back. Some of them were staggering even. At times there were barely two or three pairs on the dance floor, most of them were eating and drinking in the other room. More and more noise came from there, while we played for the two or three pairs. There were moments when no one at all was dancing, but we kept on playing.
During one of the last breaks, I think it was, I went to the bathroom. I heard someone in the next stall. It wouldn’t have been at all unusual, except that I heard what sounded like someone talking to someone else. I listened closely, whoever it was was speaking indistinctly, mumbling, I figured they must be well oiled. I was only surprised that the other person wasn’t saying anything. The partitions of the stalls didn’t reach the ground, so I bent down and got an even bigger shock, because I only saw one pair of shoes. Not patent leather shoes, just regular lace-ups.
“So, are we going to build a new and better world, what do you think?”
Who on earth was he talking to? True, sometimes you might say to yourself, What do you think. You’re right, people like to talk with themselves more than with anyone else. If you ask me, even when you’re talking with someone else, when it comes down to it you’re really talking with yourself.
In any case, I could barely breathe from curiosity. Especially because he was talking about a new and better world, something I believed in too. All at once he raised his voice, he almost shouted:
“It’s nonsense! Not us, not them. It’s all nonsense, pal.”
I climbed up onto the toilet, grabbed hold of the top of the partition, pulled myself up carefully till my chin was over the top, and what did I see? Someone was standing at the toilet, but alone. His mask was pulled away from his face onto the top of his head, so from above all I could see was the mask. All the more so because he was stooping over and rocking, with one hand on his fly, looking downward, and muttering downward so it seemed:
“Socialism, capitalism, none of it’s worth a damn thing. You’re the power. The world stands on you. Though what are you? Well, what are you? You sit there inside our pants. Nice cozy place. A refuge, you might say. Many a time people would hide there themselves if they could. And there’s plenty to hide from, that’s the truth. Relax now, otherwise I won’t be able to piss.”
Pardon me, but it’s just us men talking. I’d never say that in front of a woman. I wanted to see his face but he never once looked up. Actually he seemed to lean over even further. True, I wouldn’t have recognized his face either. I didn’t even know where we were, where we were playing, who for, who all those people were, they were all wearing masks. On top of that, they’d brought us there under a tarpaulin and forbidden us to look out.
My hands started to hurt from holding on to the top of the partition, and my arms were getting tired. I let myself down, as carefully as before, first onto the toilet, then from there I stepped down quiet as anything to the floor. I wondered if I should flush the toilet, let him know someone was in the next stall. But my curiosity held me back. You know how hard it is to know even about yourself, what you’d do in a situation like that. I decided I’d just give a cough. So I coughed, but it didn’t have any effect. He even kind of raised his voice a little:
“You sure have a nice life. Your only worry is which pants leg to be in. And even when you get old and decrepit, no one’s going to throw you out. We should all be so lucky — I won’t say who the luck should come from. Me, you know, I can’t even be sure of tomorrow. I can’t be sure of anyone’s words. Everyone’s wearing a mask, how can you tell whose words are whose. Which ones mean one thing or another. Which ones are good wishes and which ones are judging you. You have to beware of every mask. What, are you looking at something? The future maybe? You don’t have eyes. You’d like to see me? It’s not worth the trouble. I’m standing at the toilet and because of you I can’t take a piss. Let me tell you, people have to do too much thinking. You don’t know everything, if only you did. There are times a person doesn’t feel like living. But what do you care about that. You only have one thing on your mind. Though supposedly it’s actually my mind. But truth be told, what does it mean to say ‘mine’? Eh? That it’s in my head? That doesn’t prove it’s mine. I mean, I’ve got you in my pants, but are you mine? I’ve never felt that way. More like I’m yours. I’m attached to you so there’s someone to carry you, move you here and there, take you out, hold you up, put you back and so on. Maybe it’d be better if we were separate. What do you think? If we were only occasionally together. Maybe if that were the case I’d want something more. Because being a man from morning till night isn’t as enjoyable as you think. Maybe for you. But what do you know. You squirt your load and you’re happy, whereas me, I have to do everything else, it all comes down to me. Not to mention that I have other responsibilities. Conferences, meetings, consultations, councils. Going from one to another, all day long, sometimes even into the night. To the point that I even forget you’re there, that’s what my life is like. A walking contradiction, you might say. Do you know what a walking contradiction is? The idea that you and I are one. That’s a load of baloney. If the new and better world is supposed to be that way too, I’m out of there. Or maybe I’m already long gone from it, what do you think? So what if I’m pissing? That’s no proof of existence. And as you see, without your say-so I can’t even do that. Just relax. Oh, you … I know what you’re after. I even understand you. But get real. With a mask? Do you know who might be behind the mask? You don’t. And neither do I. Do without for now. We’ll have to get through this ball somehow or other.”
In the end I flushed and left the stall. He came out right after me, but his mask was already on.
9
Did you just arrive in this world? Because everything surprises you. Yes it does. I’m not pinning anything on you. I’m just listening to what you say. I can even see that your hands are surprised by the beans. You could never shave with a straight razor. A straight razor needs a cool hand, one that’s indifferent to whatever’s going on inside you. Or someone would say something you weren’t expecting, and you’d cut yourself right away. You ever shaved with a straight razor? Never? You probably use an electric razor. You don’t shave at all? How is that possible? See, now it’s my turn to be surprised. But that’s something a person can still be surprised at. You don’t have any stubble, it’s true. I can see your face is smooth. Unless these days there’s some other way of dealing with beards. In that case you probably don’t even know what a straight razor is. I have one here, in the drawer. Somewhere I have a brush as well, and shaving cream, and aftershave lotion. I could give you a shave. It doesn’t matter that you don’t grow a beard, you’d still see how nice it is to shave with a straight razor. You can only learn that when it’s your own face. You’re scared? Of what? I don’t understand.